


He Touched the Hutt!

by Coryphefish



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, I promise, Nothing gross or cringey or awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8964358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coryphefish/pseuds/Coryphefish
Summary: Diego Luna keeps obsessing during interviews over how much he wants to feel Jabba's skin, and I'm like....that can be arranged.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The rebels' supply shipments are getting seized by Imperials more and more frequently, yet Jabba the Hutt hardly ever seems to lose anything. Mon Mothma needs an operative to infiltrate the palace and steal one of the encrypted datapads the smugglers use to plan and share safe routes. A contact at a dancing troupe has offered to get someone inside.

"I don't know why Mon Mothma isn't volunteering," an operative said bitterly as she dug through the box of dancer costumes.

"She went over that during the briefing," said another, shrugging her shoulders. "Someone would recognize her."

"I can't do this." A third operative finally said what was really on their minds. "My husband would worry...I can't do that to him."

"You think you're the only one with someone that cares about you?"

A bitter argument broke out.

Cassian sighed. 

"I'll do it"

"What?"

"I said I'll do it."

They were staring at him.

("I've always wondered what a Hutt's skin feels like, and this is my best chance to find out," he wanted to say.)

"I'd probably attract less attention from Jabba and his followers," he said instead.

Nobody objected. They moved to let him look through the costume pieces.

"Here, I can put something together if I take some of the bigger armbamds....and someone hand me that purple fabric thing over there ....."

Finally, one of them found a suitible belt piece near the bottom of the pile.

\---

A cheer rang out as the dancers jogged lightly into the throne room and waved at the crowd. 

Cassian stayed near the back and did his best to keep his head down. He certainly hadn't perfected the synchronized routine the others were performing, but it seemed the other two men had their own roles, so he improvised his own. 

Jabba was there, but his throne was on a raised platform at the other end of the room. Still, it was the closest he'd ever been to a Hutt. And he looked more dry than slimy, which was encouraging at least.

The opening act ended, and the dancers scattered to mingle with the crowd. He followed the largest group...which turned out to be a mistake because eventually, a burly man with an eyepatch implant decided Cassian was getting too many sideways glances. 

"Find your own!" He punctuated the threat with a rough shove, but instead of hitting the ground, Cassian fell into a woman in blue durasteel armor.

"What's your problem?" she challenged the cyborg with a snarl, and he quickly scurried off.

Cassian turned around. His rescuer was considerably taller than he was, and twin claw scars streaked across her face.

Jabba was laughing.

"Give her a dance!" he chuckled.

Cassian had been the center of too much attention for one day, so instead, he tossed the purple shawl over her shoulders and pulled her to the middle of the room with him.

More and more people were watching and cheering as they danced together. Cassian was half seducing his partner, half checking for datapads.

It worked too well. Before he could finish searching, they were joined by four or five other admirers.

The Rodian woman didn't have a datapad.

Neither did the pirate with seashells in his hair.

Then his luck changed and a young woman in a gray trenchcoat literally pulled out a datapad. Cassian tried to stay casual as he wandered over, leaned on her shoulder, and watched her point out a flight path to the smuggler next to her.

They seemed smitten with each other, so when a serving droid rolled up, he quickly reached for a drink and offered it to her with a bow. She winked and accepted it but then frowned at both the drink and the datapad in her hands. Finally, she handed Cassian the datapad, slung an arm around her companion's shoulder and lightly played with the lapels of his vest as she sipped from the glass.

Cassian half turned, ready to hide the datapad in his jacket and run off, but he caught himself, remembering that he didn't have a jacket.

Instead he pulled a tiny chip out of an armband, synced the pad to the encrypted Rebel frequencies, and started scanning for nearby devices.

The woman started laughing and half her drink sloshed to the floor. There wasn't much time.

Finally a U-wing showed up on the screen.  
Not far from here! Seconds later, its main computer was masked and added to the network. 

...Seconds after that, a soft hand on his shoulder indicated it was time to trade the datapad for an empty wine glass. Well...almost empty. He made a show of finishing the last few drops, and she never noticed when he flicked out the data chip and returned it to his armband.

Now all he had to do was wait for whoever was on the U-wing to radio the extraction team.

He glanced back at Jabba with a pang of regret as he made small talk about the upcoming smuggling run.

Why had he thought this would work? What had he expected to happen? That he could just walk in and say, "Hello Mr Jabba, may I put my hand on you for a while?"

A different sort of hand fell on his shoulder. It was the man with the bionic eyepatch again. Before any of them could react, the cyborg swung, and the smuggler in the vest was out cold.

Cassian ducked the next punch, but it was a feint. Before he could react, he found himself lifted completely off his feet and thrown across the room.

He slammed against side of Jabba's head, slid down the Hutt's side, rolled off the platform, and disappeared into the ensuing firefight, but that's not how he experienced it. 

Time had seemed to slow - a combination of the dead silence as he sailed throught the air and the adrenaline from the confrontation. And not just the confrontation. He was astonished at this unexpected opportunity and he wanted to remember every moment.

How surprisingly unhurt he was for example. Jabba's layers of fat made his skin surprisingly rubbery.

And the texture! Like a leather jacket, but so much more. It was rough and exotic and warm and so...alive! And the various bumps and crevasses felt so much more pronounced than he'd expected.

He landed on his feet in a light crouch, and by then the guards had opened fire on the cyborg. 

Moments later, Jabba hit a button on his throne, and part of the floor opened up, sending half the guests tumbling into a pit of what sounded like a starving pack of insectoids. 

Moments after THAT, the rebel squad took the opportunity to barge in and open fire, covering Cassian's escape. By then he'd found a hooded poncho to toss over the dancer gear, and nobody ever saw him leave.

\---

Jyn folded her arms and tried to stop grinning.

"I don't believe you," she said with an overexaggerated scowl.

One of the rebels groaned. "Neither did we, but all these years he's never shut up about Hutt skin."

"Have you ever touched a Hutt?" Cassian challenged.

Jyn shrugged and changed tactics. "What about pictures of your disguise? Do you have those?"

Cassian confidently shook his head, but behind him Jyn saw three rebels reaching for personal datapads, and her reaction gave it away. 

"What? Hey!" He turned and lunged for the nearest one.

"I won't look unless you want me to," Jyn smirked.

Bluff called, Cassian sighed and handed the datapad to Jyn, trying to hide his expression and his reddening face in his other hand.


End file.
